


Crashing

by mangocianamarch



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 02:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5073445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangocianamarch/pseuds/mangocianamarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s almost as if he <i>hears</i> her, despite the distance. They seem to move at the same time, running and yet not moving fast enough, pushing people out of the way, making beelines for each other, and then suddenly Sathien is crashing into Alistair, his arms wrapping tight around her thighs as he lifts her off her feet. In turn, she pulls him in close, holding him flush against her, hands in his hair and around his neck as he pants and gasps in relief and elation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crashing

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of my two contest entries for Tumblr user [GreyAllison](http://greyallison.tumblr.com/)'s Dragon Age smut contest. If you've got a Tumblr and you're interested in participating in the contest anyway, head **[here](http://greyallison.tumblr.com/post/131257519993/in-celebration-of-hitting-2000-followers-thaaaank)** for details! 
> 
> This is the first legit smutfic I've written for DA, I've had so many smut plotbunnies for a loooooong time but just haven't found enough time to write them all down, and this contest gave me the push I needed to _make_ the time to push something out, so many thanks to Grace Allison for coming up with the contest in the first place!

She _feels_ him before she even sees him, standing what feels like a whole world away, frozen, shocked and, unless it’s a just a trick of the sunlight, near tears. Sathien doesn’t blame him – she’s a little choked up herself, very suddenly so, and right in the middle of the bloody Warden fortress too, for all their colleagues to see. She opens her mouth, trying to let out an exhale, but what happens instead is a harsh sigh, a ragged breath that drags all the way up her throat.

“ _Alistair._ ”

It’s almost as if he hears her, despite the distance. They seem to move at the same time, running and yet not moving fast enough, pushing people out of the way, making beelines for each other, and then suddenly Sathien is crashing into Alistair, his arms wrapping tight around her thighs as he lifts her off her feet. In turn, she pulls him in close, holding him flush against her, hands in his hair and around his neck as he pants and gasps in relief and elation.

“You’re here,” she hears him say, low and reverent, “You’re really here.”

Sathien drops kisses into his hair, on his forehead and down his nose, until he grabs her and pulls her to him and kisses her hard and deep, his fingers digging into her flesh as if afraid that loosening his grip on her would make her disappear. A tear or two roll down her cheek as she gives as much as she’s getting from him, clutching his arms and his armour, bent a little at the waist, and if there’s any discomfort she can’t feel it. All she can feel is Alistair, his lips, his hands, his body, warm and sturdy and _real_.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes, eyes closed as his forehead touches hers, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you more,” Sathien replies, and he chuckles wetly. She can’t help caressing his cheek, thumbing his tears away.

“Not possible,” he shoots back, and she laughs with him, kissing him again.

Someone is calling her, by name and by title, but she refuses to care. She kisses Alistair again, and he goes all too willingly, sighing into her mouth.

“We probably have a lot to talk about,” he says, breathless when they pull apart. His jaw is slightly ajar, thin lips parted and inviting, eyes sparkling with so much joy, far too much, like a dam threatening to break at any second.

Sathien shakes her head, finds his hand and twines her fingers with his. “Later,” she says, and his face falls slightly, “First, we celebrate.”

He catches on quickly. Without another word, Alistair tugs her along, walking briskly with her wrist in his hand. She hears him offering hasty apologies to people they knock into as they pass, and Sathien can’t help but giggle, lost in the thrill of the moment, and in her own need and anticipation.

She barely has time to take in the small, bare room Alistair pulls her into before her body is pushed against the door, slamming it closed. Alistair’s kiss is hot and hungry, and Sathien can only whimper as she melts into his touch. Her fingers are quick and deft as they attack his armour, undoing buckles and bolts with the urgency of a dying man clawing for breath. He breaks his kiss long enough to laugh, but his eyes are as dark as she thinks her own are, and when he steps back to undress himself, Sathien can’t help but _leer_ , biting at her bottom lip and pressing her thighs together against the start of a familiar, dull ache.

She waits until Alistair is completely naked before tugging at her own plates and pauldrons, but Alistair stops her, gently circling her wrists with his fingers and pulling her hands away.

“Let me,” he says, a request, not a demand, and the softness of it only makes Sathien _want_. Not trusting her voice, she nods, and with one more sweet kiss, Alistair starts to undress her. Sathien can only watch as his hands roam over her body, removing piece after piece of _obstruction_ with as much determination and gusto as she’s seen him have on the battlefield. The precision is the same as well – no fumbling fingers as belts come loose, no shaking hands as buttons are popped open. He’s so sure, so set in what he’s doing, and it stokes the flames in Sathien’s core.

When all that remains are her breastband and smallclothes, Alistair takes a step back as if to admire his handiwork. Sathien can feel herself flushing somewhat, not helped by the way Alistair smiles at her, gentle and loving and longing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighs, reaching out to caress her cheek with his palm, “How did I go so long without you?”

As Sathien searches for an answer, she nuzzles into the warmth of his hand. She lands a tiny peck of her lips on the pulse point in his wrist, and she hears more than sees him smile.

Alistair closes the distance between them and captures her mouth in a searing kiss, and now Sathien’s fingers claw at skin and flesh, the evidence of his need pressing against her thigh as her hands slide down his back and grip the meat of his arse. Alistair lets out a breathy moan as Sathien pulls him flush against her, as if even skin on skin isn’t close enough. His lips move across her jaw, down the column of her neck, stopping only briefly as he licks at her collarbone before he’s softly sucking at the swell of her breasts. Alistair’s hands reach around behind her and undo her breastband, before they come back around and take its place. Sathien hisses when Alistair’s thumb rubs circles on one nipple until it peaks, and then his tongue is there, teasing and tasting, and then his teeth are nipping at her, and she _shudders_.

“Alistair...” she moans, but he pays her no heed. His lips travel across her chest and close around her other breast as one arm circles her waist and tugs her closer. Temporarily losing her footing, Sathien finds one of his legs between hers, and she doesn’t even try to stop from grinding her pelvis against him, the friction absolutely _heavenly_ against her sensitivity. She wonders if he can feel her desire through the cloth of her smalls, for Alistair groans against her skin and sucks on the top of her breast hard enough to leave a mark.

A cuss falls from Sathien’s lips just as Alistair’s journey down her body resumes. His tongue dips into her navel briefly, and her stomach jumps at the feel of it. But then his fingers trace along the band of her smalls, hooking beneath and pulling as he settles onto his knees before her and Sathien forgets to breathe. Alistair urges her leg up so he can completely remove the offending thing. The rush of air to her wet, wanting secrets does _nothing_ to dry up her need to have him. But instead of setting her foot back down, he all but throws her thigh over his shoulder, and it’s all the warning Sathien gets before Alistair _dives_ for her cunny, lips pulling and tongue seeking. The sound Sathien makes is strangled and choked out, somewhere between a gasp and shout. One hand shoots down and plants itself on his shoulder for support as she positively _vibrates_ from his efforts, the other flailing backward uselessly, seeking purchase from the far too flat face of the door.

Alistair is eager and relentless and _ravenous_ , his grip on her hips and bum tight as he draws her even more flush against his mouth as he feeds on her, and it takes very little wordless urging from him to get Sathien to grind against him, to find and take her pleasure from him. She can feel herself shaking from how good his lips feel as they suck on her nub, from his tongue lapping at her and pushing as much as it can into her entrance. She gasps and sighs, the timbre of her voice rising with each second, each pass of his tongue along her slit, each sharp suck on her jewel. The hand she had on his shoulder finds its way into his hair, and when he puckers his lips around her bud and pushes two fingers into her, she growls behind gritted teeth.

Alistair’s fingers twist and curl inside her, dragging along her walls as his mouth continues to work on her pearl, and Sathien tugs at his hair, unsure if she wants him to stop or to keep going until she _bursts_. She begs in broken breaths, mouth hanging open as the rising pleasure in her both steals and strengthens her voice. When she finds enough wherewithal to open her eyes, she finds Alistair flicking his eyes up to her, a smile hidden in the corners of his gaze, and Sathien _breaks_ without warning. She cries out, shouting his name, shouting the Maker’s name even as she lets out a litany of affectionate profanity. Alistair’s fingers push to the knuckles into her, curling against that one magic spot, drawing her orgasm out, and it’s only when her groaning begins to die down into helpless whimpers that Alistair withdraws from her, wiping at his lips with sullied fingers which then find their way into his mouth as he rises onto his feet.

Sathien reaches for him, kissing him insistently, her tongue sliding against his in her mouth as her fingers toy with the hair at his nape. Alistair sighs into her as she manoeuvres her other hand down between them, until she’s clutching the silky heat of his hardness. Their kiss breaks as he hisses at her touch, and she strokes him slow and tight, eyes never leaving his face as he grinds into her fist.

“I want you, Alistair,” she tells him, voice a harsh whisper, “Make love to me.”

Alistair doesn’t need to be told twice. He tugs her hand off of him, slides his hands down her sides and behind her thighs to lift her. He pushes her against the solid door as her legs wrap around his waist, one arm around him as the other squeezes between their bodies to find her clit. Not that she needs it, but she rubs in fast, tight circles, feeling herself quickly become wet with want again. Alistair shifts on his feet, planting them firmly on the ground as his mouth attaches to hers again. When she feels his erection against the back of her hand, Sathien grips it again, this time to guide him, though he hardly needs it.

In one swift motion, Alistair sheathes himself inside her, shoving her up the door with the force of his thrust. They cry out in unison, their voices blending in a lusty duet. Alistair feels _perfect_ , just as he always had, just as he always will, and when he draws back only to buck up hard into her again, he hits that magic inside her that makes her see stars behind her eyelids. She hears him breathe out her name against her lips, and she looks up at him, green eyes meeting brown, and she smiles weakly, lovingly.

“Move.”

Alistair does. The rolling of his hips is smooth, but his thrusts are needy, hungry as the kisses he sucks onto her skin. She squirms around him, trying to meet his rhythm, but they’re both too needy for anything coordinated.

They aren’t going to last long, Sathien knows. It doesn’t matter. There will be time for sweet and drawn out and unhurried later. For now, their desperation for each other leads their celebration of her return, of the anniversary of their elopement, and her silent promise to never leave him again.

**Author's Note:**

> This will definitely be continued, and the continuation MIGHT be the second entry to the contest, unless I get or am given a better idea/prompt for a second entry to the contest. If you've got a suggestion (that goes with the "celebration" prompt in the contest guidelines), feel free to let me know!


End file.
